Page 9 of The Hacker (Dominion Hall #5)

ELIAS

M y screens flickered, a grid of code and grainy feeds, but all I saw was her.

Vivienne Laveau, silhouetted against Charleston’s glittering skyline, arms wide like a goddamn siren on the Ravenel Bridge.

The footage was everywhere—X, news streams, some asshole’s shaky phone video tagged #CrazyBallerina.

My fingers twitched over the keyboard, itching to erase every pixel of her defiance. I could’ve done it—hijacked the streams, crashed the servers, wiped her reckless stunt from the internet.

But that wouldn’t erase the image seared into my brain: her red curls whipping in the wind, her green eyes blazing, her body balanced on a razor’s edge. She was a glitch in my system, a variable I couldn’t control, and it was driving me insane.

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking.

My pulse pounded, a relentless drum. My suite was cool, sterile, but I was burning, my skin tight with need.

Vivi’s scent—jasmine and sweat, raw and alive—lingered from that cramped ballet office two days ago, a ghost I couldn’t shake.

I’d killed for her, snapped three necks because they’d dared to touch her world.

And now? She was out there, taunting death on a bridge, taunting me , and I was coming apart, thread by bloody thread.

My phone buzzed, an alert from a script sniffing X for her name. Another post: Ballerina goes rogue on Ravenel Bridge! Who is this chick? I slammed the phone down, the crack of plastic echoing.

My screens hummed, my haven of logic and control, but they were useless tonight. Code was my lifeline, my way of bending the world to my will. Every line, every function, was a puzzle I could master. But Vivi? She was chaos, a storm that mocked my firewalls, and I was drowning.

I stood, pacing the polished concrete, my mind screaming.

The demon inside me was awake, snarling for her.

I wanted her here, in my space, where I could pin her down, make her see what she was doing to me.

I wanted her wrists under my hands, her pulse racing, her defiance mine to break.

The thought was a drug, hot and wrong, and it made my blood roar.

She wasn’t mine—not yet—but the demon didn’t care.

It wanted her claimed, caged, safe from the world, from herself.

My laptop pinged, another alert. I froze, eyes snapping to the screen.

A live feed from a news chopper, its spotlight locked on the bridge.

There she was, still up there, Jessa crouched lower, looking like she was praying.

Vivi stood tall, arms wide, her tank top plastered to her skin by the wind.

The camera zoomed in, catching her grin—wicked, fearless, a middle finger to gravity and me.

The caption crawled across the bottom: Unidentified women climbing Ravenel Bridge. Authorities en route.

My vision tunneled, red at the edges. Authorities.

Cops, Coast Guard, maybe SWAT. She was exposed, and they’d drag her down in cuffs, or worse—she’d slip, and the harbor would swallow her.

Charleston’s waters were a graveyard, claiming fools like her every month.

The thought of her gone—her laugh, her spark, her infuriating light—ripped a growl from my throat.

I slammed my fist into the desk, monitors rattling, but the pain didn’t help.

It only made her sharper, brighter, a beacon I couldn’t ignore.

I grabbed my jacket, keys, burner phone. No plan, no pause. My scripts could wait, my firewalls could hold. Vivi was on that bridge, and I was going to get her down, even if I had to climb up there myself.

The demon roared, but this wasn’t just about saving her. It was about owning her, making her understand she couldn’t keep slipping through my fingers. She was mine, whether she knew it or not, and I was done watching from the shadows.

The drive to the Ravenel Bridge was a blur, Charleston’s streets streaking past in a haze.

My SUV’s engine growled, matching the storm in my chest. I parked near the base, where a crowd had gathered—gawkers, news vans, cops setting up barriers.

The chopper’s rotors thumped overhead. I slipped through the crowd, hood up, face a mask.

Nobody noticed me. Nobody ever did. That was my gift—being a ghost, until I chose otherwise.

The bridge loomed, its cables glinting like wires in a circuit, its pylons thrusting into the sky. My tech-addled brain mapped it like a network: access points, weak spots, paths to her.

First, I needed eyes. I pulled out my burner, tapped into the chopper’s feed with a script I’d built for jobs like this.

The signal was encrypted, but encryption was just a lock, and I was a master key.

Ten seconds, and I was in, the feed streaming to my phone.

There she was, higher now, gripping a support cable, her body swaying with the wind.

Jessa was below, shouting, but Vivi didn’t look down.

She looked out, at the city, at the harbor, like she was daring it to take her.

My jaw clenched, my free hand fisting. She was reckless, fucking reckless, and I wanted to shake her, scream at her, pull her into my arms and never let go.

The demon was loud, its claws sinking deeper, and I let it.

I wanted her safe, but more than that, I wanted her mine .

The thought was a live wire, crackling through me, and I hated how right it felt.

I moved, slipping past the cops, who were too busy yelling into radios to notice. The fence was a joke, the lock giving way in seconds. I climbed the ladder, boots gripping the rungs, the wind biting my face. Someone yelled for me to stop. I ignored them.

The harbor stretched below, black and hungry, but I didn’t look down. My focus was her, on the beam where she stood, four stories up, playing chicken with fate.

The higher I climbed, the louder the wind howled, tugging at my jacket, stinging my eyes.

A woman in the crowd screamed. The bridge hummed under my hands, a living system, and I felt it—the pulse of steel, the rhythm of its structure.

It was like code, predictable if you knew the patterns, and I always did.

But Vivi? She was the anomaly, the bug I couldn’t squash, and it was killing me.

I reached the crossbeam where Jessa crouched, her face pale, her braid whipping in the wind. She saw me, eyes widening, but I didn’t stop.

“Get down,” I barked, voice rough over the gusts. “Now.”

“Where the hell did you come from?” she shouted, but she was moving, scrambling toward the ladder. Smart girl. One less problem.

Vivi was higher, on the sloped truss, her body pressed against a cable, her shoes slipping on the slick steel.

The chopper’s spotlight locked on her, and the crowd below gasped, their voices a distant hum.

I climbed after her, muscles burning, heart pounding.

The demon was a roar, drowning out everything but her.

“Vivi!” I shouted, voice raw, half-swallowed by the wind. She didn’t turn, but her head tilted, and that grin—fuck, that grin—flashed in the spotlight.

“You came,” she called, voice light, teasing, like we weren’t four stories up with death waiting below. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

“Get down,” I growled, closing the distance, hands gripping the truss. “Now.”

She laughed, throaty and warm, and it hit me like a shot of whiskey. “Make me, Cipher.”

My control snapped, the demon breaking free.

I lunged, fast, my hand catching her wrist. Her skin was warm, her pulse racing under my fingers, and the contact was a jolt, electric and consuming.

I pulled her against me, her body flush with mine, the wind screaming around us.

Her eyes locked on mine, green and defiant, and the world stopped.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” I snarled, face inches from hers. “You think this is a game? You think I’ll let you kill yourself?”

Her grin didn’t falter, but her eyes softened, just a flicker. “You’re here, aren’t you? That’s what I wanted.”

I tightened my grip, my other hand sliding to her waist, anchoring her to me. “You don’t get to play with your life like this. Not anymore.”

She leaned closer, lips brushing my ear, breath hot against my skin. “Then stop me, Elias. If you can.”

The demon roared, and I was done. I kissed her, hard and desperate, my mouth claiming hers like I could pour every ounce of my obsession into her.

She kissed me back, fierce and unyielding, her hands fisting in my jacket, her body pressing against mine.

The wind howled, the spotlight burned, but none of it mattered.

There was only her—her taste, her heat, the way she burned through every wall I’d built.

I pulled back, forehead against hers, breath ragged. “You’re mine,” I said, words low, possessive, a vow I hadn’t meant to make. “No more running. No more games.”

Her eyes searched mine, and for the first time, I saw a crack in her defiance, a flicker of something raw.

“You sure you can handle me, Cipher?”

I smirked, despite the storm in my chest. “Try me, Red.”

The sirens below grew louder, the chopper’s rotors thumping closer.

I didn’t care. I guided her down, hand never leaving her, body shielding her from the wind.

Jessa was on the ground, arguing with a cop, but I didn’t stop.

I led Vivi past the crowd, past the flashing lights, to my SUV.

The cops yelled, but I was a Dane, untouchable, and they knew it. Nobody followed.

I opened the passenger door, eyes locked on hers. “Get in.”

She raised an eyebrow, that grin creeping back. “Bossy.”

“Now,” I said, voice low.

She slid inside, movements deliberate, provocative, like she knew what she was doing to me. I slammed the door, rounded the hood, and got behind the wheel. The engine roared, and I pulled out, the bridge fading in the rearview.

“Where are we going?” she asked, voice soft but edged with challenge.

I didn’t answer, hands tight on the wheel. I didn’t know. Dominion Hall, her apartment, anywhere I could keep her close—it didn’t matter. She was here, with me, and I wasn’t letting her go. Not tonight.

My phone buzzed, an alert from my scripts. I ignored it. The world could burn for all I cared. Vivi was in my car, her presence a live wire against my skin. I’d killed for her, climbed a bridge for her, and now I was hers, whether I liked it or not.

The demon was quiet, but I wasn’t fooled. It was waiting, ready to rage again. And as I drove into the Charleston night, the city’s pulse matching the one in my veins, I knew one thing: Vivienne Laveau was mine, and I’d tear the world apart to keep her.